


A Rare Moment of Downtime

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adorable, Finnegan's Wake, Fluff, M/M, Reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3586959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's been no hunts the past couple of weeks, and so Sam and Gabriel decide to read James Joyce's Finnegan's Wake and be cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rare Moment of Downtime

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT OWN FINNEGAN'S WAKE. IT IS THE PROPERTY OF JAMES JOYCE AND HIS ESTATE. I ALSO DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL. IF I DID THERE WOULD BE FLUFFY MOMENTS LIKE THIS AND GABRIEL WOULD BE ALIVE.
> 
> The passages that Sam reads from this messed up book are true. If you want the pages numbers, let me know!

Sam reclined on the bed, reading _Finnegan’s Wake,_ running his fingers through Gabriel’s hair as the angel rested his head on the human’s leg, twirling a large strawberry sucker in his mouth.

“This book, I swear,” Sam said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Isn’t it a treat, Sammy boy?” Gabriel asked brightly, looking up into the hazel eyes of his boyfriend.

“It’s fucking trippy. Why would a scholar devote so much time trying to decipher the meaning from this?” The hunter asked.

“Scholars torture themselves. There was a girl I knew who tried to catalogue and translate all the languages in there. Linguistics, I guess. She was cute. Anyways, she and a friend of hers drove themselves crazy over this book, trying to just translate it. I think she tried to write a paper on the book,” the Trickster said casually.

Sam’s eyes widened. “You’re joking.”

“Nope! She was about 21 when she started reading it, and she had a blast with it. She didn’t finish that paper until she was 25, and by then, she already had done her undergrad and was in the middle of getting her Master’s.” The archangel grinned.

“Did she use it for her Master’s thesis?” Sam asked curiously.

“Nah, she didn’t get the chance.” Gabriel grew serious. “She joined the Marines about halfway through, and was serving a tour in Syria alongside an ex of hers in the Army. He was trying to get some parts for an aircraft, and he needed her help, since she knew Farsi. IED landed not far from where they were standing. He lived. She didn’t. And the only reason why he lived was because of her. He’s a double amputee now.”

“Didn’t that just happen like a month ago?”Sam asked curiously.

Gabriel nodded. “She was a former charge of mine. Her angel was absent when this happened.”

“Wow. I’m sorry, Gabe, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories,” Sam said, hugging his boyfriend tight to him, sandwiching the book.

“It’s okay, kiddo. Besides, I have more fond memories of her than bad. It was just her time.” The Trickster tapped the book. “Read me a paragraph. Please.”

Sam huffed a laugh. Finding his place in the maze of a book, he began to read.

“’Aisy now, you decent man, with your knees and lie quiet and repose your honour’s lordship! Hold him here, Ezekiel Irons, and may God strengthen you! It’s our warm spirits boys, he’s. . . Spooring’?”

Gabriel was nodding, holding in silent laughter. “Keep going,” he said.

Sam shook his head and returned to the paragraph at hand. “’Dimitrius O’Flagonan, cork that cure for the Clancartys! You swamped enough since Portobello to flow the Pomeroy. Fetch neahere, Pat Koy! And fetch nouyou, Pam Yates! Be nayther angst of Wramawitch! Her’s lumbos. Where misties swaddlum, where misches lodge none, where mysteries pour kind on, O sleepy! So be yet!’”

Gabriel was chuckling. “You sound good with an Irish brogue, Sammykins.”

Sam shoved at Gabriel playfully. “Yeah?”

Gabriel snatched the book out of Sam’s large hands, and flipped open to a page at random. “Here,” he said, pointing to a small paragraph. “Read this one.”

Sam skimmed the paragraph. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

Knowing that he couldn’t refuse his golden eyed Trickster, the hunter sighed and started to read.

“’But what was the game in her mixed baggrhatty’?” He looked at Gabriel. “What the fuck is that?”

“I have no clue!” Gabriel threw his hands up. “Joyce was going blind when he wrote this, we’re basically playing telephone here. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t exactly coherent when speaking.”

Sam chuckled and began to read again. “’Just the tembo in her tumbo or pilipili from her pepperpot? Saas and taas and specis bizaas. And where in thunder did she plunder? Fore the battle or efter the ball? I want to get it frisk from the source. I aubette my bearb it’s worth while poaching on. Shake it up, do, do! That’s a good old son of a ditch! I promise I’ll make it worth your while. And I don’t mean maybe. Nor yet with a goodfor. Spey me pruth and I’ll tale you true.’”

By now, Sam was also laughing. “’Son of a ditch’?” he laughed.

“Apparently, Joyce didn’t like swearing,” Gabriel laughed. “I figured you can use it around Dean-O, see if he notices.”

Sam laughed even harder, flipping to a page that he bookmarked. “This is my favorite passage so far,” he confessed.

Gabriel looked it over and howled. “Oh, yes, Sammy. Get that brogue on!”

It was nice, Sam decided as he laughed and stumbled over the incredibly impossible book, to sit by the man he loved and read aloud to him, laughing and talking. No pressure of going any further than necessary, just being close to him. Hunts had been far and few in between the past few weeks, so he rarely saw Dean and Castiel except at agreed upon mealtimes. He liked this though, he decided as he debated with Gabriel on the correct pronunciation of the word “hrosspower” (“horsepower” is what he would like to translate it as), being able to take things slow and relax with Gabriel.

“There’s about 47 languages in this book, it’s impossible to translate!” Gabriel laughed as Sam carried on.

“47?!” Sam looked at Gabriel, astonished.

“Yep. I think we’re counting the various forms of English, since there’s loads of Middle English in here, as well as several dialects. Thank Dad there’s not Enochian, or we’d be screwed!”

Sam cracked up laughing.

Yes, he decided. This was one of the best things about not constantly being on the road.

Although, he now wanted to chuck _Finnegan’s Wake_  out of the window while the Impala was speeding along the highway.

“And your former charge dedicated her life to translating it?” Sam asked.

Gabriel laughed. “Yes, she did!”

Sam laughed along with Gabriel, relaxing for the first time in a long time. There was no research, no supernatural beings that needed to be put down, no funerals to attend. There was just the crappy hotel room, the fast food, and his archangel curled up on his side, attempting to read the same book.

Gabriel, perhaps sensing his boyfriend’s thoughts, leaned up and kissed Sam sweetly. “This needs to happen more often,” he confessed.

“Agreed,” Sam said, hugging the archangel to him, setting down the insane book on the nightstand. “This doesn’t happen often enough.”

“I’m going to treasure this.”

“Same here, Gabe.”

Gabriel looked over at the clock. “You, Sammykins, need some sleep.”

Sam looked over and saw that the alarm clock was blinking the time 4:30 AM in bright red letters. As if on cue, he yawned.

“Mhm, that’s right,” Gabriel teased as Sam eased out of bed to go through his nightly routine. The Trickster could hear the rambunctious union of his brother and Sam’s, and winced. “Your bro is going to be sore!”

“I don’t want to know!” Sam called back after gargling his mouthwash.

Gabriel laughed and snapped away his clothes and got underneath the covers. Although he didn’t have to sleep, he got in the habit of going into a meditative like state while Sam slept. Besides, it was comforting to hear Sam’s heartbeat while he slipped into it.

Sam reemerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but black silk boxers, a gift from Gabriel and he slid in next to Gabriel after setting an alarm for noon. Immediately, the archangel nestled his head on the hunter’s chest, laying it right over his heart and snuggling into him. Once he was settled, he felt strong arms hold him tightly in place, and he gave a content sigh.

“Good night, my angel,” Sam said as he turned off the light.

“Good night, my moose,” Gabriel murmured, already drifting off.

Sam huffed a laugh at the archangel who was already drifting into meditation, gave him a light squeeze, and closed his eyes to fall asleep.

 _There’s no place I’d rather be,_  he thought before sleep overtook him.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr! dragonmage.tumblr.com
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


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